Moments
by amightylongstick0006
Summary: I had a few random short stories about Ron and Hermione following the war so I decided to put them somewhere! Hope you like, will be writing more soon i think.
1. Brothers

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter

**Hopefully these will make for an ok read! Im really not sure, but i enjoyed writing them, so let me know what you think. **

Ron Weasley sat alone on the cold stones paving the corridors of Hogwarts.

His arms across his knees, he was looking out into the night from a heavily broken piece of wall, somewhere up on the seventh floor. He felt a slight twinge of guilt, thinking on how he had made excuses to be away from his family for a bit. But, in all fairness, his family weren't exactly small... they could manage with each other for a little while without him.

His brother kept trying to barge his way into Ron's mind, (how typical,) but he didn't feel like he could quite manage that yet. To think about it, or indeed face it in any way, seemed beyond him. It was his fucking _brother_...how do you say goodbye to your brother? With a rather painful gulp, Ron cast his thoughts about rather desperately, trying to ignore the growing ache forming like a tumour in his stomach.

"Ron?"

His head swivelled round at the sound of her voice. He gave a little sigh of relief. Whatever he had been feeling, it no longer felt quite so bad.

"You're finally up, I see. Here was me thinking I'm the lazy one."

Hermione didn't quite smile, she instead lowered herself slowly to sit near by him, folding her legs neatly underneath her.

"You took out the plait, then?"

Hermione nodded, fingering freshly washed hair; she had a lovely smell around her. "Your sister cut my hair for me."

Ron took in how soft her hair looked, she had a slight fringe...it looked nice. "It looks good, actually. Who knew she had such talent. I'll have to get her to cut mine," Ron reached up to run his hand ruefully through the unfamiliar length of hair, not to mention the rather thick stubble he had across most of his face. He briefly had the urge to chuckle just slightly over Harry's attempt at a beard; it looked like fuzz.

"Where's Harry?"

"Fast asleep still. Or at least he was when I checked on him."

Ron snorted, "I suppose he did kill Voldemort... guess he'll be needing a bit of a break from dark wizards for a while."

Looking back at Hermione now, he took in the way she was looking at him. He couldn't quite grasp what it was, but there was something in her sad and sympathetic expression that sort of made him want to cry. Gulping painfully for a second time, he let his eyes move away from her face, examining the corridor around them.

"Have people started clearing up this place yet?"

"Not quite yet. Some people have, but I think people have mostly been resting today. Dealing with...things," her voice was quite soft, he noticed. Would she want to talk about it? Hermione often did. And often he liked that about her. But this _was_ his brother...he didn't want to be bawling like a complete baby in front of her, which would come, he was sure. She had seen enough of how pathetic he could be without seeing that.

"So, what d'you reckon? You forgiven me yet?" Ron asked, grinning a little in the hope of lightening the mood.

He considered it a bold move bringing it up at all. She had, understandably he supposed, (sort of), been furious with him for quite some time. He'd never really had time to establish, what with breaking into Gringotts, wars across his school and other such mildly entertaining activities, whether she had accepted his apology. Now was as good a time as any.

Hermione wasn't answering, though, so he risked a look at her. He blinked.

Her lip was quivering slightly and her eyes were filled to the brim with moisture. He watched as one tear rolled slowly down her cheek.

"Hermi-"

"Ron, I forgive you," she interrupted firmly, "for future reference, though, I'd rather you be here than not. Don't _ever_ do it again."

Lost for words, Ron simply nodded earnestly in agreement. Hermione nodded to herself once, took a deep shuddering breath and wiped her cheek. The tears didn't stop though.

Ron wanted to say something to her, comfort her somehow, but he something held him still. He just sat staring at her crying like some gormless idiot. She looked at him.

"Ron, I'm... I'm so sorry about Fred."

Ron swallowed the lump that had risen horrifically fast within his throat, and looked down at his hands.

"It's...It's fine."

One of Hermione's hands slid gently onto his arm and gripped tightly. Without thinking about that expression of hers, he automatically looked back up at her.

"I really am so so sorry," she whispered.

And there was something about the incredible amount of understanding in her look, the affection that seemed to melt whatever resolve he had to continue in not facing this. But suddenly, the idea of crying over Fred, his creative and hilarious and wonderful prick of a brother, didn't seem such a bad idea. He moved his legs out straight and wordlessly held out his hands. She took hold of them with a slight smile, sniffing rather adorably, and allowed herself to be pulled on to his lap. Hermione wrapped her arms completely round his neck, and cried into his shoulder. He held on to her tightly, almost laughing through his tears at the thought of Fred's expression if he could see how silly his little brother was being.


	2. Distractions

Hermione was sitting at a table in the Gryffindor common room, (in the corner, away from the noise some 5th year boys were making), re-writing up in neat the essay she had been planning and writing for Potions throughout the last fortnight.

She carefully double-checked the dates of certain theorists she had researched. It was a very important essay; Slughorn was using it as a basis to see what kind of grade they would achieve if they gave the answer in the NEWT exam.

Just to be sure, Hermione made another note in her diary that she ought to start memorising all the dates of alchemists in the medieval period. It was bound to be on the exam...

She was just re-reading the finished essay carefully a third time through when an excitable tapping sounded at the window. It was Pig.

The essay out of her mind rather suddenly, and a barely contained grin on her face, she dashed to open the window and took the letter from Pigwidgeon, the latter looking immensely pleased with himself and zooming happily around the room. Feeling rather giddy, she sat back down and unfurled the parchment to read Ron's endearingly messy scrawl.

_Dear Hermione, _

_How's the Potions essay going? You rewritten it ten times and rechecked every fact at least twice yet?_ - Hermione scowled; this was only her fourth draft! - _Remember to calm down won't you, (I've seen how you get, Hermione; Mungo's would be interested) Slughorn thinks the sun shines out of your every orifice and lets face it, you are without a doubt the cleverest witch in, never mind our year, but probably our entire generation. And your prodigious skill in the art of essay writing has never failed you yet. - _Despite herself, Hermione was already smiling again, feeling a warm flush spread through her cheeks_ - _

_Whatever you said about being rusty from our year of "travelling" (accurate description, by the way, really captures the thrill and danger of it all) McGonagall was banging on about your essay on physical transfiguration for a full week by the sounds of it, remember?_

_Harry and me are still doing OK at the Academy – Harry considerably better in the more practical courses as usual. How he manages to learn these spells in half the time that everyone else needs is still a mystery to me. I'm not bothered though; that's Harry's thing, isn't it. The man did defeat old Voldie... _

_But, I do have to tell you about this one class I'm actually managing to get f__ull marks__ in, (un-fucking-believable, I know – nobodies quite sure how its happening). It's the Strategics and Concepts of War class I told you I liked. I'm actually quite good at it... sort of reminds me of chess a bit really in parts, which is a piece of piss, isn't it? _Hermione was grinning now, her heart filling with pride_ - _

_Grimmauld place is FINALLY done being all refurbished. It was starting to get seriously annoying – even Kreacher got grumpy and he bums the place out nightly. _

_Oh - thank you thank you thank you! for brewing that beast of a potion! – you're amazing. How anyone can have the patience to wait 2 months to make a potion is beyond me. But the Portrait of Mrs Black is now on a fire somewhere, where it fucking belongs! Me and Harry were talking in shouts at each other all day just for the hell of it. You've got to come see it all repainted and everything – we actually managed to stay inside your crazy budget. My room looks pretty decent now as well. You'll be overjoyed to hear that apart from a few CC posters its not orange either – well sort of anyway – it's more like a red._

_It's weird not seeing you around all the time. Harry thinks so too. Especially weird in really dull lessons – we actually have to pay attention and make our own notes. The experience has been quite traumatising to tell you the truth. _

_This weekend we're still busy. They've got us on _another_ field assignment and they're pretty desperate for us to do it. They've figured out Voldemorts runaway supporters practically wet themselves if Harry's around, and that this possibly gives us an advantage. Me and Harry work well __together too. We're free for a few weekends after this though, so let me know what you're doing._

_You wanted to know how George was doing? I dunno really – the same. He's still drinking quite a lot which is kinda shit. Me and Harry went over the last two evenings, sorted out his inventory and check book. Charlie and Bill have said they're gonna keep coming round to check up as well, but lets face it, they need to get back to their jobs, and I'm nearer anyway. I don't mind doing it though – I'm taking care of it. Don't you start worrying about it all too, Hermione. I know what you're like. It's all under control. _

_Anyways, before I get you too depressed, let me know know what you're up to – and try not to write a novel on how much you love Arithmancy again, Hermione. I know you do by now, lets face facts. I'll try and see you as soon as I can, I don't really want to have to wait until Christmas. Let me know if you can get away for a bit. Or if there's anymore Hogsmeade trips. Hope you're good._

_Love Ron_

_P.S we've apparently got a massive family thing happening this Christmas, (Aunt Muriel's even coming – I'm screaming horrifically in my joy) Mum wants to know if you'll be there too and has asked me if you could invite your parents...You really don't have to do this if you don't want to. _

Hermione, smiling fondly, sighed, a strange mixture of emotions tumbling over each other inside her. Poor George... she would have to help with that when she got back. Whatever Ron and Harry said or hoped, George just wasn't going to get over this any time soon... Ron was being wonderful about it though. Whilst she had been in Australia retrieving her parents, he had been with George and helping out with the business constantly.

Hermione smiled. She always felt so happy after receiving one of his letters, and, it was strange – but this was always accompanied by a painful ache starting somewhere in her stomach and reaching her heart. She missed him far too much.

The longest amount of time she had ever really spent without him in the last few years had been for a brief period when he had walked out on them – but she quickly stopped that thought.

Hogwarts wasn't bad or anything, but it wasn't the same and could be extremely lonely without Ron... even with Ginny in the same year as her now, she found she just needed to speak to Ron every so often. It was like some obscure addiction... the urge occurring on a daily basis and it was frustrating because it would interrupt her studies!

It was bizarre – who would have ever believed that she needed someone as disrupting as Ron around in order to perform well in exams...

She reread the letter several times, making sure she had taken in all the details, until finally, the common room growing steadily quieter as the night drew on, she was simply reading it to hear his voice in her head. She wondered, an awkward squirming feeling disturbing her stomach, if he missed her as much as she missed him. Evidently he wished to see her as soon as he could, which obviously meant he cared a lot. But this much? To the point where if she thought about it for too long during the day it would physically hurt?

"Ouch!"

Her thoughts were disrupted by a sharp peck at her fingers. Pig was looking up at her happily. Waiting for a reply probably...

Suddenly though, she noticed her essay lying forgotten amidst scraps of parchment.

Feeling suddenly rather annoyed with Ron for distracting her from her essay, she resolved to write a reply tomorrow and finish checking through her essay tonight. She couldn't help smiling a little though as she did...


	3. Finding the Right Bed

It was late into the night. Hermione was lying in a camp bed on Ginny's floor, chewing her lip in thought. Christmas Day had come to a close and it was inevitable, really, that the day had felt so bittersweet; a day surrounded by the idea of family... Mrs Weasley had cried a lot today. She had put on a very brave face, though. Hermione wished she could do more for her. Or better yet George, who had not managed to make it over today...

Harry and Ginny and, of course, Ron had been there, though. Even her parents had decided to brave the wizard Christmas and were now sleeping downstairs on the sofa bed. Hermione smiled happily; despite the obvious circumstances they had had a wonderful time. More than once they had forgotten they were so angry with her about Australia. She held back a giggle at the thought of Ron's face as he politely attempted to listen seriously to a conversation about drilling into peoples teeth. Her father had been teasing him just a little, unfortunately for Ron, but he usually only did that when he liked people, so that was good. After a while, Hermione's thoughts began to stray away from her parents, and Christmas and teeth, away from everything really, except... would he be asleep yet?

Looking up at Ginny's bed she listened carefully... it didn't sound as though she was asleep.

Hermione, Harry and Ron had all ended up staying over in the end; they weren't drunk, but definitely too much alcohol to think about being able to apparate or fly back anywhere.

She looked up again at Ginny. Maybe Ginny wouldn't mind. It worked out rather nicely when you thought about it. She could go up to Ron's room, and send Harry down here...Ginny wouldn't object to that. Hermione smiled thinking about the two of them today; they were one of those couples you just loved being together. They were so playful and cute with each other; they clearly adored each other. She was just so pleased Harry had someone like Ginny. She doubted he would've made it so smoothly through the last few months if it hadn't been for Ron's sister. She had this knack of understanding exactly what Harry seemed to need with very little prompting. Hermione had certainly never managed it; he could be awfully difficult when he wanted to.

Hermione sighed heavily. She simply wasn't tired yet. Too much had happened today. Deciding to ignore the fact that both Ginny and Ron might be asleep, she gave in to an increasingly noticeable urge.

"Ginny? Ginny, sorry, but I have a suggestion?"

Ginny moved but didn't say anything. Hermione sat up; she'd already half woken her up she might as well go the rest of the way. Hermione shook her. Not violently but Ginny came round looking rather peeved.

"What?"

"Do you mind if I go upstairs?"

Ginny looked at her in disbelief, "Do whatever you like... Why have you woken me up?"

"You weren't _completely_ asleep in all fairness. And I just mean...upstairs to...to Ron's room. And...maybe I could send Harry down here?"

"Oh...right..." Ginny seemed to mull it over then shrugged, "Yeah go ahead. Just spare me any details tomorrow. He's still my older brother, remember."

Hermione frowned, "Of course I remember..."

Ginny rolled her eyes, and pushed back the covers to get out of bed, "Last time we talked about that stuff you suffered from some severe memory problems then."

Hermione decided to ignore this and walked quietly out onto the landing, leaving Ginny to readjust her hair or whatever it was she was doing. Hermione made her way steadily up to the top floor, taking particular care around Mr and Mrs Weasley's room. The house was oddly silent. The ghoul had stopped banging around so much since its escapade out into Ron's room... and the twins weren't here...she deliberately didn't think about that though. Not right now. Outside Ron's room, she listened carefully. It sounded as still as the rest of the house. But she fluffed up her hair, (it was all glossy and straight today due to the potion she now had as a gift from Ginny) and rearranged her short and t-shirt pyjamas. Then she knocked and walked in. Both Ron and Harry were sat up in their beds talking to each other, a warm light from the deluminator high above them.

"You're both up too-"

"Hermione," Ron said, sounding pleased, "What you doing up here?"

Hermione couldn't help but avoid Ron's face as she asked,

"Harry...could you maybe go downstairs to Ginny?"

Harry shrugged, "ok" and got up to leave.

"Hey wait!" Ron sat up as Hermione closed the door behind Harry, "He's going to Ginny's room? Now?"

Hermione sighed, trying not to smile, and walked over to Ron, sitting on his bed. "Yes he is. You really need to start getting used to that sort of thing, you know. But that's hardly the point, he's going there so...I could come here."

Ron was silent for a while, "Oh...yeah...that's alright then."

"You cast mufflatio?"

Ron nodded, "Yeah, we weren't discussing anything secretive or anything, just didn't want to worry about being quiet."

"Hmm. A strange day really, wasn't it."

Ron snorted slightly, "I'll say." Ron leaned forward a little, his blue eyes looking searchingly into hers, "What d'you reckon? Your parents have a good Christmas?"

Hermione smiled. One of the things she liked about Ron was that he very rarely looked people in directly in the eye for long periods of time; he almost always did with her. "They had a wonderful time. They found it all quite fascinating, you know. And they really liked that your father was so interested."

Ron guffawed, "their the only ones. I'm not sure my Dad should be... do you know the stuff your parents do with teeth!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "It was not that bad. Plus, my Dad was exaggerating a bit. He does not ply teeth out with his bare hands."

"He doesn-?!" Ron suddenly grinned, "He was pulling my leg? Ha! Well played..." Ron actually looked fairly impressed. "Your Dad's alright you know..."

"I like him."

Ron smiled but didn't say anything more, just continued to look at her closely. She felt herself going faintly pink. She hoped he wouldn't notice...

Ron cleared his throat a little, before asking in a rather low voice "So...uh, was there any particular reason you came up?"

Hermione couldn't stop a little gulp, "there might be." Her voice was very small. She wished she was better at this. More confident and self-assured. She supposed, like anything though, it would just take more experience, and this whole thing was still fairly new to her. And, it was Ron.

Tentatively, Ron stretched a hand to hers. She took it and he pulled her gently towards him. Hermione instinctively pulled back the covers and climbed in next to him. They both lied down on their sides, facing each other and Ron curved an arm comfortably round her, pulling her up against him. There seemed to be a moment then, as they looked at each other, when they both teetered on the edge of speech, wanting to say something meaningful, romantic, sexy, complimentary... but being young and being unsure, they didn't. Hermione tilted her head and Ron's lips caught hers in a kiss.


	4. Cat Antics

With a large snort Ron blearily opened his eyes, his brain feeling fuzzy. He tried to make out the time. 5 something in the morning? What the hell...

"OW!!"

Cursing loudly, Ron yanked his feet towards him, fumbling for the deluminator on the bedside table. Clicking it, an orb of warm light filled the room and Ron turned his throbbing feet over to inspect the damage.

After a while he heard a groan from beside him.

"Ron, it's 5.43 in the morning!"

"You think I hadn't noticed? Hermione, just look at what that crazy furball has managed to do to my feet this time! He's ripped them to fucking shreds!!"

Somewhat grumpily, Hermione dragged herself upright, her hair a mass of tangles and examined the damage Ron held out to show her. He watched her expression carefully. She always insisted his injuries weren't that bad. They were horrifying! Not to mention annoying. No-one liked getting woken up in agony at all hours of the night by fluffy torturers. All she had to do was tell that maniac animal to sleep in the other room and he would! She really was an idiot when it came to her cat. Or creatures of any kind really.

Hermione sighed heavily, "Ron! They are hardly touched! Now _go to sleep_." She flung herself back against the pillows, facing away from him and pulling the duvet round her.

"Hardly touched?! Are you blind, woman? I'm bleeding!!" Ron said indignantly.

"Dittanys in the drawer," Hermione replied, her voice muffled by the bedding.

Ron rolled his eyes. This was so unfair. Shouldn't it be boyfriend _before_ psychotic cat...?

As he was leaning over the bed to open the drawer, Crookshanks himself came trotting innocently out from round the bed, looking extremely pleased with himself. Ron's eyes narrowed. Fucking furball, strutting round the place like he owned it.

"I pay the bills!" Ron whispered furiously at him. Crookshanks hissed back and continued to lightly prance about the room. Oh, he'd be attacking Ron's feet again, no doubt about it.

Before now, he and Crookshanks had been getting along quite well. He had actually started becoming fond of the thing...not that he ever told Hermione this; she looked ridiculously smug if he so much as smiled at the cat. But, ever since Ron and Hermione had moved in together two weeks ago, Crookshanks had been doing this; attacking him, acting all innocent and taking it far too personally in Ron's opinion.

Twice that cat had starting yowling over absolutely nothing when he and Hermione had been trying to _celebrate_ their new flat in this very bed. And his girlfriend, being who she was, immediately had to get up, '_Oh but Ron, he could be sick! I'll go and check' 'Ron, don't be mean about Crookshanks! He's not trying to spoil anything! This move could be very hard for him.' 'Ron, you call him a furball one more time and I'm not going to have sex with you at all!!'_

Rubbing Essence of Dittany liberally into his wounds, he sighed in relief as they disappeared. The bottle was still quite full...he supposed they hadn't been _too_ bad... still ridiculously painful though!

Siphoning off any dots of blood with his wand he had a sudden idea. He put the dittany away and pointed his wand inconspicuously at the cat. The cat was watching him smugly still, his yellow eyes glowing in the semi-darkness.

Without warning Ron flicked his wand out, saying the spell inside his head to avoid disturbing Hermione, and watched, triumphant, as the cat meowed loudly in surprise, zooming across the room and out the door. The door closed neatly behind him and Ron aimed a silencing spell after that to ensure Crookshanks didn't bother them by scratching and yowling for the rest of the night. Sighing happily he chucked his wand aside and settled back into the covers, slipping an arm around Hermione. She obviously hadn't seen what he had just done, because she snuggled up against him with a soft 'mmm' sound. He grinned and drifted off again.


End file.
